


Regarding the Video Game Announcer

by BleedingTypewriter



Series: Regarding Twitter (NSFW) [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Keith is also a little shit, Lighthearted, M/M, Rimming, Teasing, lance is a little shit, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24173179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingTypewriter/pseuds/BleedingTypewriter
Summary: Keith hates video game announcers. Lance doesn’t—or at least, he didn’t until now.Part of a series of edited/updated threads from Twitter.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Regarding Twitter (NSFW) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744681
Comments: 8
Kudos: 209





	Regarding the Video Game Announcer

**Author's Note:**

> "Regarding Twitter" is a series of my favourite threads updated, lightly edited, and tagged. All original versions are available on my account [here.](https://twitter.com/BleedingType/status/1199399029395709952) Length and tone varies as Twitter is where I tend to play and explore.

There’s a specific ring to the timbre of the game’s narrator that pisses Keith off.

He hadn’t even cared that much to begin with. Lance had brought the video game home and good-naturedly waggled a controller at him, and they’d played happily through the tutorial together. And then Lance had casually asked, “Wanna go online?” and Keith has shrugged and said, “Sure,” and that damned narrator had commenced fucking up his entire afternoon.

“There _is_ a new leader! There _is_ a new leader!”

He can ignore it at first. The game is a seizure waiting to happen, a sharp neon aesthetic bathed in strobing explosions, so he has enough to focus on. He snipes a careful kill from a high ledge.

“There _is_ a new leader!”

Then his half of the screen is going red, white letters proclaiming _You have been killed by Lance-ssacre_. 

“There _is_ a new leader!”

“Are you kidding me right now, Lance?”

His boyfriend just grins. “Don’t be mad, there’s no shame in being out-sniped by the master.”

When Keith respawns, he sneaks up and around. Lance is the sixth in his killstreak: he shivs his character right in the spine ( _Lance-ssacre has been killed by WTFKeithDontJustUseYourName_ ).

“There _is_ a new leader!”

Lance scoffs indignantly.

“No shame in being out-ninja’d by the master,” Keith goads.

A minute later and Lance is blasting him away, point blank.

“There _is_ a new leader!”

He gets Lance with a Hail Mary knife throw.

“There _is_ a new leader!”

He goes down with Lance’s sword (he’d picked up a _sword_ , the dick) in his back.

“There _is_ a new leader!”

He equips an assault rifle and makes _Lance-ssacre_ -shaped swiss cheese.

“There _is_ a new leader!”

He gets taken down by another player as he’s trying to stalk Lance from above and maybe get a good drop shot on him.

“There _is_ a new–!”

“Can we _please_ turn off that fucking voice?”

Lance glances at him. “Why?”

“There _is_ a new leader!”

Keith grits his teeth. “Because it’s _distracting_."

He can hear the smirk when Lance talks, even though he keeps his attention on the screen. “I don’t find it distracting. Have you tried…”

“Don’t say it, Lance.”

“...gettin’ good, scrublord?”

Keith sighs. He particularly enjoys the next killshot, even though…

“There _is_ a new leader!”

In the end, neither of them win. They tie in kills but are too busy trying to off each other for either of them to end up on top. And Keith is fine with that. The game has been pretty fun, all things considered. Sometimes they need to scratch that competitive itch between them, and it’s certainly done a good job of that.

The problem is…

“There _is_ a new leader!” Lance chirps.

Keith freezes where he’s bent over in the fridge, having just beaten Lance there. “Don’t you dare start.”

It's far too late for all that.

Lance steals the last cup of mid-afternoon coffee from the percolator.“There _is_ a new leader!”

He picks the last cherry from the bowl in Keith’s lap and pops it into his mouth. “There _is_ a new leader!”

He jumps into the shower before Keith makes it back from his workout. “There _is_ a new leader! There _is_ a new leader! There _is_ a new leader!”

God, he even has the bland, awkward emphasis down.

“Fucking... _Lance_.”

“You could be, you know,” Lance sing-songs from the other side of the shower curtain. “You could be _my_ new leader.”

And well.

_Well_.

That gives Keith pause. He does his best approximation of his own exasperated grunt and leaves the bathroom amidst Lance’s echoing laughter. Afterward, he sits in the living room with a little sullen downturn at the corners of his mouth, resolutely staring at his data pad even when Lance emerges and kisses him on the head, and he can tell the precise moment when Lance starts to feel like he’s gone too far. He takes in Keith’s raised shoulders and heavy finger taps and scoots into the kitchen to start making dinner. His silence is its own form of apology, and Keith feels a little bad for leading him on like this.

(But only a little).

Supper is a quiet affair. It’s hard for Keith not to smile. “You’re not, like, _really_ mad about the game thing, are you?”

There’s an art to keeping one’s voice neutral enough to cause discomfort, and Keith is a master of it. “No,” he intones. “I’m not, like, really mad.” Then he gets up and puts his dishes in the dishwasher and makes for the shower without another word, and poor Lance doesn’t know what’s hit him.

“It was a joke,” he insists. “I was _joking_.”

“I know,” Keith says. "I'm not upset."

He doesn’t sound not upset, and he knows it.

By the time they’re readying for bed, Keith’s hair not quite dry underneath (which he knows very well will drive Lance _nuts_ when it ends up matted in the morning), Lance is fidgety. “Are you _sure_ you’re not mad?”

Keith takes it for the in it is. Lance is sitting on the edge of their bed, picking at the comforter, and he looks so adorably surprised when Keith climbs into his lap. “Lance,” he says, and leans in to suck his earlobe into his mouth. “I’m not mad.”

He _still_ doesn’t sound not mad, and he _still_ knows it.

Lance lets himself be pushed onto his back. “I’m not mad,” Keith repeats as he kisses him filthy hot, without finesse, and strips him efficiently. “I’m not mad at all,” he insists as he starts running down a list of erogenous zones with his tongue (ears, neck, nipples, belly button, the inside of the thigh, the crook of his hip). “Not even a little bit,” he says as he bypasses Lance’s cock and nudges in close and licks firmly over the puckered flesh of his hole.

“I don’t—oh holy shit, that’s good—I don’t believe you,” Lance gasps, even as he reaches down to cup his balls and hold them out of Keith’s way, rolling them indulgently in his palm.

Keith’s only response is to seal his lips and suck hard, snaking a hand up to wrap around Lance’s dick and start pumping him with those little wrist-flicking motions, squeezing just so, the way he knows gets him there like nothing else.

He waits until Lance is grinding back against his face, the fingers on one hand toying with his nipples in turn, the fingers on the other still massaging his own balls. Keith waits until he’s _close_ …

And he pulls away from Lance’s ass, and flicks his tongue out against the dick he’s still working like he was born to do it, and watches as two fingers automatically surge down to press into that _spot_ just behind where Lance has been touching. And just as Lance starts to come, Keith catches his eye and, with a wicked smirk, says:

“There _is_ a new leader!”

“Oh _fuck_ you!”

Lance half-laughs through his orgasm.

Keith works him through it with a truly devilish combination of his practiced hands and talented tongue and deadpan assertions that, “There _is_ a new leader! There _is_ a new leader!”

“You’re the worst,” Lance says after, still a little breathless and giggly even as his cock twitches with aftershocks. “The absolute _worst_.”

Keith’s laughter could be classed as uproarious, just for a second, before Lance is slipping off the edge of the bed and settling on his knees. “I’ll show _you_ a new leader,” he grumbles.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, the idea for this came from the last 10 seconds of [this old-ass TomSka video.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0SQlxGbplw)


End file.
